


In Sickness and in Health

by Homunculi



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Drinking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, One Shot, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23131225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Homunculi/pseuds/Homunculi
Summary: In the aftermath of Apocalypse, Peter Maximoff and Warren Worthington share a room in the medical bay of Xavier's Institute. They get to know each other - and maybe a little more.
Relationships: Pietro Maximoff/Warren Worthington III
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	In Sickness and in Health

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mama_Inglaterra_Baoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mama_Inglaterra_Baoi/gifts).



> A one shot that was inspired by a reader of another fic I'm currently writing. We both ended up liking a side/conflict pairing a little bit too much. So I gave them their own fic! Hope you like it, if this fandom even exists? We might be the only two, idk. 
> 
> I'm sorry, I didn't edit this, so it might have some errors or redundancy.

Walking through the halls of the Institute, Warren felt like the thorn in the lion’s paw.  _ I don’t belong here _ , the thought resounded in his head over and over as discerning eyes judged him when he passed. It wasn’t any wonder why nobody liked him, it was more a question of why are they keeping him. He kept his chin up, defiantly making eye contact with anyone whose glare lingered a second too long.  _ So what if I sided with Apocalypse and tried to destroy the X-Men? We all wake up on the wrong side of the bed some days, right?  _

_ After the world was saved and Apocalypse was defeated, the famous “good samaritan” Charles Xavier took it upon himself to send his little X-Dorks into the wreckage of that jet I went down in - to spare me for some god awful reason. Should’ve just let me rest in peace, old man. After all, with these wings I might’ve stood a chance at fooling God into letting me into his kingdom.  _

Warren wasn’t sure if they were keeping him for insurance purposes, or if he was gonna be used as target practice in the danger room one of these days. Either way, he felt compelled to stay - on account of one person. The first person there who didn’t outwardly hate him - a guy named Peter Maximoff. They became acquainted in Xavier’s medical lab, as they were being treated and hospitalized in the aftermath at the same time. Peter for his broken leg and twisted arm, and Warren for his broken - well...everything. Hospital neighbors, charming right?

The memory was fresh in Peter’s mind. Even though the dreadful stay was months ago at this point. He is still plagued by nightmares - caged in a hospital bed, mostly immobile, and the creeping tick of the wretched clock that only served to emphasize how agonizingly slow the days were passing. Imagine being Quicksilver, a mutant renowned for his lightning fast sprints, only to have an incapacitated leg. He felt like a bird with clipped wings back then. 

The only thing he had to keep him occupied were the sounds that came from beyond the other side of the curtain that separated him from the patient to his left. Usually, it was just the steady, shallow breathing as the oxygen mask forced life into helpless lungs, or the intermittent beeps from some type of monitor. But occasionally, it was the sound of pained screams and struggling as Hank or any number of staff fought to perform a physical exam. He didn’t really know who it was beyond the curtain, couldn’t put a name to the voice. Even when doctors started speaking to this mystery patient when he finally became coherent. This and that, something about wings. 

It was then that it dawned on him to speak up to his neighbor himself. Maybe he was curious, maybe he was bored. Either way, he had nothing to lose.

“So what are  _ you  _ in for,” he questioned with a half-hearted laugh.

He was met with a long pause before a voice, gruff from neglect, finally spoke back.

“Accessory in an attempt to end the world.”

The sarcasm made Peter smile to himself.  _ Ah, so this is one of Apocalypse’s lackeys? Not really sure how to feel about that… _

“That’s a pretty hefty crime, man. Gotta wonder if they’re just rehabilitating you for the sake of executing you themselves,” he joked cynically.

“My thoughts exactly....I would have rather stayed dead either way. It would just be a mercy killing at this point,” the tired voice responded.

The room fell silent again. In an effort to break the melancholic atmosphere, Peter tried to change the subject.

“So, um. You like music?”

“...the fuck kind of question is that?”

Peter quirked an eyebrow at the sour remark before tossing his Sony Walkman over the curtain, hoping it would land within reach of his neighbor. A few moments later, he heard the unmistakable sound of the player clicking open. The other observed the cassette inside. 

“Pink Floyd? Got anything heavier?”

“Heh, can’t exactly get to my collection - even if I did.” 

He heard a soft sigh from beyond the curtain, but the player clicked shut and soon after he could hear the faint sound of “Another Brick In The Wall” blasting through the earphones. A few moments later, Peter barely caught an inaudible “thanks, man” from his roommate, and he smiled to himself. 

\------------

It felt like an eternity before Hank finally came by to check in.

“Hey, Beast. I’m fiending for some Twinkies. Could you hook me up, pretty please,” the silver-haired man asked, batting his eyelashes dramatically. 

Resident doctor Hank McCoy, aka Beast, shot Peter a skeptical look before bending over to scope out the messy stash of emptied boxes and wrappers that littered the floor beneath his hospital bed. 

He let out an unimpressed groan and adjusted his glasses. 

“You know, Peter, you’re eating like you can still run around, but until your dislocated shoulder and leg are set, you’re stuck in bed. If you keep eating like that, you’re gonna get fat .”

A soft chuckle could be heard from his neighbor.

“A little bed rest never slowed down  _ this  _ metabolism,” he replied confidently, “...come on, pleeeease~ Just one more box?”

“Sure, but your friend here has an important operation today, so we’re gonna have to move you to a different section for an hour or so. You can have your snacks there.” 

Hank kicked the offending boxes out of the way as he wheeled Peter away on his gurney. 

Warren had no fight left in him, he didn’t even speak to the people as they came and went throughout his recovery process. He couldn’t even bring himself to look them in the eye. He felt defeated, dejected...and it was no different when the doctor strapped him to the table, stomach down. He was mildly aware of the presence of the two tiny stumps at his shoulder blades, but honestly he tried to ignore them, tried to forget that he ever had wings at all. The thought never crossed him that there was ever any hope of getting them back. But he was in for a rude awakening. 

You see today was the big day, according to Hank. After a few laborious days in the lab, he was confident he had formulated the perfect “mutagenic growth hormone” - for lack of a better term. 

“This might hurt a bit, bird boy.”

That was the only semblance of a warning he received as the serum was injected into his back. It ripped like fire through his veins. He clenched his teeth and hissed at the jarring discomfort, but the worst was yet to come. Peter, who was down the hall at this point and lulling into a hostess cake coma, was startled awake by the sound of agonized screams coming from the main bay. Even with the door to this private room shut, the wailing shook his core.  _ Wonder what they meant by “operation” _ , he shrugged to himself. 

In the other room, Hank watched in a mixture of awe and horror as his medicine worked its magic. Two wings, sprouting and spreading from Warren’s shoulder blades, the snapping of bones as they twisted and arranged themselves. There was blood, and the stretching of skin over his already scarred up back. Warren continued to cry out in pain, fists clenched tightly into the sheets of the hospital bed. Until finally, the pain was too much to bear, and he fell silent, his body went slack, as he fainted in the midst of this overwhelming metamorphosis. But Hank loyally stood watch over his vitals, even as the fresh limbs disturbingly began to sprout feathers. 

\----------------

“Are you ready for the big reveal,” Hank asked Peter as he carted him back towards the main room.

“This is a dating show, Hank,” Peter rolled his eyes. 

The bespectacled doctor just chuckled and played along.

“Well, your mystery man behind the partition isssssssss,” he announced, putting on his best game show host voice, and tapping out a drum roll on the headboard before fully wheeling a very helpless Peter back into the room where Warren was.

Peter was at a loss for words. No characteristic snarky response to be heard. Only shock. Well, of course, if he had felt like putting any thought to it, he surely could have narrowed down who his roommate was. This whole time, he opted not to think about any of those villains, because it only served to leave a bad taste in his mouth. He knows he’s seen him before, but there are several things that aren’t sitting right with Quicksilver as he gives Warren a once-over. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more, the fact that he had seen this man die and yet here he was, or that his wings were...not metal, not intimidating weapons of steel as he recalled, but instead... _ angelic _ ? 

“Whoa, Hank. This one’s a doozy, even for me,” he admitted with confusion.

“He was-”

“Dead? I know. We all thought so, but actually, by some miracle those big metal wings of his had taken the brunt of the impact. Not even any major breaks, amazingly - just fractures. But those steel feathers of his ran him through, that’s for sure. He was hanging by a thread,” the doctor answered. 

“Heh, lucky bastard,” Peter joked, “really must be some kind of goddamn angel.”

\-----------------------------

_ A thread _ , Peter thought, eyes trained on the man across from him. He was still face down, nude, save for the hospital gown unceremoniously wrapped around his lower half, and the thick bandages secured around his midsection. The weight of the massive wings almost appeared to crush him from that angle. The silver-haired man found himself wishing that he was mobile again. Not for the sake of speed, no not for the sake of running away, but growing nearer, if not just to run a hand over the glossy plumage. 

A soft groan startled him from his thoughts and he noticed the blonde’s eyes flutter open, wincing a little as the harsh, fluorescent light blinded him.

“For fuck sake,” he spat out bitterly as he struggled to sit up. He flexed the stiff wings and looked back at them with an expression of both relief and regret. After a moment, his gaze instinctively snapped towards Peter, the feeling of his stare now impossible to ignore. 

“Can I help you,” he asked harshly.

“They’re just...much more beautiful like this,” he remarked openly, shirking off the unsightly memory of the cold steel wings that hung in their place just a week earlier. 

Warren was taken aback by the frankness of the comment, and it was visible in his features. 

“Sorry,” he sighed and rolled over to face away from Peter, “guess the inside doesn’t match the outside.” 

\-------------------

It was another boring afternoon, and Peter’s good leg fidgeted with agitation and restlessness, the drone of the clock overwhelming his senses once again. There were only so many times a man could awkwardly hop on one leg around the small medical area to help pass the hours. His friends visited, sure, but they only dropped in for short periods to leave a card or give their spiel of encouragement.

“Let’s bust outta this place. Whaddaya say?”

Warren rolled over and looked at him like that was the dumbest shit he’s ever heard.

“For a bad guy, you’re really not adventurous,” Quicksilver teased, “you’ve gotta dream bigger, man.”

“No offense,  _ man, _ ” he mocked Peter’s lackadaisical tone, “but look where that got me not too long ago.”

“What’s your case, anyhow,” he continued, “what happened to you?”

“Your boss busted me up pretty good. You shoulda seen me, though. I almost had him. Shame you had to go and get killed before the big show,” he joked sarcastically.

“Oh, I know. Would’ve really enjoyed watching you get your ass beat,” Warren smirked.

“I’m sure we could arrange something, but only if you help me get out of this place.”

“And the best part is, I  _ could _ ,” Warren replied with a strong gust of his wings, just enough to gently lift him off the floor, “but I don’t think I will”.

“Damn. I thought lending you my tape player might’ve worked as bribery,” Peter playfully stuck his tongue out at his roommate, “showoff”. 

“Cripple,” Warren shot back.

“I don’t think I could carry you outta here, even if I felt like it. You heard the doctor,” Warren laughed as he kicked a bunch of empty Twinkies boxes out from beneath Peter’s bed.

“You just wait till I’m out of this fuckin cast,” Peter said nonchalantly as he hopped over to Warren’s bedside table to retrieve his Walkman, he stopped to glare at the blonde, “you don’t deserve this.”

“Why would you wanna stay here, anyways,” Quicksilver asked.

“Maybe I wanna see what the cushy X-Dork life is all about.”

“I don’t think you’ll make the cut, cherub. But maybe they’ll make you an honorary second-stringer,” Peter winked.

Warren laughed.

\-------------------

Peter woke up when he felt the weight of someone sitting on the end of his bed. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes to see Warren perched on his knees by the foot of the mattress. 

“Whadayou want,” Peter groaned and tried to roll over.

“I can’t sleep.”

“So? Don’t make  _ both  _ of us suffer,” he covered his face with his pillow.

“Then scoot over,” Warren crawled up beside him.

“Go back to your bed, weirdo,” Peter spread his arms and legs out as wide as he could to block him.

In response, Warren decided laying on top of him would suffice. After all, he was only trying to get a reaction out of his roommate, just enough to wake him up so he would have some company. Was it ridiculous? Sure, but when you share a cramped room with someone for a couple of weeks, maybe you get too comfortable too fast. Or maybe the whitewashed, dull hospital life was leaving him delirious. But he couldn’t deny that the closeness was nice.  _ When’s the last time I came into intimate contact with someone - contact that wasn’t violence? I can’t remember,  _ he thought as he fought to shake the memory of the cage fighting, Apocalypse, but he struggled to find anything before that. 

Peter just let out an annoyed sigh as Warren’s surprisingly light weight settled on him. But he didn’t feel like bothering with his antics, so he begrudgingly made room for the other and tried to go back to sleep. He was just dozing off when he felt the winged man shifting to get under the covers behind him. 

“If a man lets you into his bed, you should at least have the decency not to spoon him,” Peter groaned.

“It’s my wings, you idiot. There’s no room.”

“You know where there is room, though? In your own damn bed,” he whispered harshly.

“Where’s the fun in that,” the blonde giggled under his breath.

“You’re sick,” Peter rolled his eyes.

“I thought you said I was beautiful,” he cooed, lips way too close to Peter’s ear.

He shuddered away from the sensation.

“I take it back.”

\-------------------------------------------

The two had recently taken to playing board games when things got too boring to handle. Hank managed to bring them Monopoly by some miracle, and ever since, it was their go-to. 

“Go to prison?!  _ Again _ ?! My luck in Monopoly is just as rotten as real life,” Warren whined.

“You and I both,” Peter frowned as his piece landed on the tax collection space.

The winged man sighed and stood up to stretch his legs. Peter watched him as he went, noting the scars scattered about his exposed torso.

“Doesn’t it suck to be shirtless all the time? I think I’d die if I couldn’t wear my favorite band shirts.”

Warren elegantly spun around to give him a skeptical look, arms crossed.

“Don’t be stupid. I can wear shirts!”

“Oh, I see. You just don’t wear them here because you wanna impress me.”

“I’d say it’s working,” the blonde smirked.

“What? I can admittedly appreciate your physique. After all, it’s the only thing special about you. I’d wager you don’t have any other powers beyond those wings, now do you?”

Warren shrugged. 

“Fair enough, still better than looking ordinary like you.”

“You just lack the taste to appreciate my aesthetic,” Peter said confidently as he snapped the band of the goggles that were pushed back into his messy hair. 

“The fuck are those dumb things for anyways,” Warren asked as he snatched them from Quicksilver’s head. 

He instinctively reached to grab them back, accidentally straining his bad shoulder. He winced at the pain.

“Oof, sorry man,” Warren replied with little empathy as he pulled the goggles on and kneeled down before Peter.

“He fucked up your dominant arm, huh? That’s a shame. Must be pretty... _ frustrating _ ,” he winked and moved in closer, slowly trailing his hand up Peter’s thigh. 

Within their short (albeit extremely prolonged feeling) one and a half weeks together, Peter had seen enough from his roommate to know he was just fishing for a reaction. He is an instigator, and now was as good a time as ever to call his bluff.

Peter placed a firm hand on Warren’s to both prevent it from wandering any further, and keep him from running away. And in one swift motion, before the angel could even react, he leaned in and planted a resolute kiss on his lips, lingering just long enough to make his point. When he pulled away, he was more than satisfied with the dumbstruck look on the blonde’s face, and he laughed despite himself. The soft shade of pink deepening ever so slightly across Warren’s cheeks. 

“Wow, Peter...You might just be the only person I’ve ever met who’s as forward as me,” he laughed.

“No. I’m just not intimidated by you. There’s a difference,” Peter pointed out lazily as he laid back onto his bed and popped on his headphones.

\---------------------

The silver-haired man awoke in the middle of the night to the rustling of his bedsheets as Warren crawled into bed with him, head resting on his pillow. They were laying face to face. Peter could only figure that he was trying to out-do himself, maybe test the boundaries just to see what might happen. But he was surprised when the blonde failed to act on any impulse. Instead, without a word, he took one of Peter’s hands in his own and interlocked their fingers, pulling their clasped hands just below his chin and closing his eyes to go back to sleep.

“Turning into a softie or something?”

Eyes still closed, Warren cracked a small smile.

“You and I both know...everyone is vulnerable sometimes. Just shut up and feel honored that it’s you witnessing it.”

Without much to say, Peter pulled Warren’s hand toward him to gently brush his lips over the back of it. There wasn’t much thought behind the gesture, but he liked the way Warren’s wings fluttered ever so subtly as his lips made contact with his skin.

\-------------------------

Just like the last time they fell asleep in the same bed, Hank probably had a lot of questions, but he had the courtesy to keep them to himself as he arrived for the routine early morning check-up. Peter’s arm was almost back to normal, and the cast on his leg could be removed in a few days. The major wound that Warren had through his stomach was finally ready to be unbandaged.

“Wow, Warren. You’re actually getting out of here before Peter,” Doctor McCoy laughed as he removed the wrapping and gauze, carefully checking the healing tissue. 

“I’ll show you to your room and then the Professor will eventually decide which classes will suit you best,” Hank ushered him towards the door.

Warren briefly turned back to cast a worrisome look in Peter’s direction. He looked like he was overwhelmed by all the choices that were suddenly being made for him. But he still conceded and followed the doctor’s lead. 

They placed him in a dorm all his own, which was nice and all, but he still found himself fighting back the urge to request rooming with Peter. He didn’t even want to leave him there alone in the hospital like that, it somehow felt like betrayal. But at the same time he knew he couldn’t lean on him for everything, even if he was in an unfamiliar place full of people who would only ever see him as the enemy. The dirty looks he got on the way to his room were enough to make him never want to go back out there. Let alone sit in a class with a bunch of mutants who seethed pure hatred for him.

\-----------------------

Peter half expected to see Warren during his last few days in the medical bay, but the other half expected him to run away from the Institute altogether. But even though his new friend never came back to visit, there was nothing that made Peter happier than to be freed from the confines of the hospital. Hank’s sophisticated medicine had him nearly good as new. Even right out of his cast, he didn’t feel any noticeable lack of mobility. He wanted to do laps around the campus until the soles of his shoes burned through. It was finally time to stretch his legs and put his powers to use again. 

Hank advised him to take it easy, but that was a warning he wasn’t about to heed. It felt so good to be outside and feel the sun again. The wind rushing through his hair, running so fast he could tread across water - he felt alive again. He was only on his thousandth lap when he noticed a familiar figure perched in a tree near the lake. Leather-clad legs hung lazily from the branch he was sitting on, sunlight reflecting off the bottle of vodka in his grasp. Faster than the eye could track, Peter zoomed by, tapping one of Warren’s combat boots as he passed. Seconds later, he catapulted past again, yanking out one of the long, white feathers as he went. He laughed as he watched the blonde look around, confused and unsettled. When he had his fill of fun, he decided to reveal himself, appearing on the ground below his roost, waving the stolen feather like a white flag.

“Would ya get a load of this! An  _ angel _ drinking on a Sunday afternoon? You heretic,” he joked, “no wonder God kicked you out.”

“Is that supposed to be a pick-up line,” Warren quirked a brow and took another swig from the bottle and patted the branch beside him, inviting Peter to join him.

In the blink of an eye, the silver-haired man reappeared in the spot next to him. 

“It might be. Maybe I decided you look halfway decent when you actually have some clothes on,” he laughed, taking a sip of the liquor as the blonde passed it off. 

“Don’t tempt me,” Warren replied coyly. 

They sat there together in a comfortable silence for awhile, taking in the view of the placid landscape. 

“So, what are you doing out here anyways, man?”

“I dunno. Probably just wallowing in self-pity or something like that,” Warren shrugged. 

“Well, you can talk to me about it if you want…”

“I don’t usually care what other people think, but in a place like this there’s an undeniable sense of ‘community’,” he said the word like it was a disease, “and I want to stay, but I arrived here with an unshakeable stigma attached to me. And I don’t think I can ever belong here. Not that I care about fitting in just...more so living my life without being blindly hated because of my past.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Even some of the most popular residents at the school have muddy pasts. Including  _ yours truly _ ,” he added arrogantly, “most of these kids don’t even know you. So, fuck ‘em. Who cares what they think? Besides, I’m the coolest person here, so if I like you, that’s all that counts, right?” 

\----------------------------

Their rendezvous occurred on and off, usually without them really trying. Life goes on, like Peter said it would, and Warren had managed to make a few friends at the Institute. Namely Ororo, who was a fellow member of Apocalypse’s four horsemen. The two of them had even coined their own hero names; Storm and Archangel. To top it off, the token bad boy had grown pretty popular with the ladies. And Peter hated to acknowledge how it made his stomach turn whenever he caught a glimpse of him walking down the hall with his arm around some girl. But he just tried to ignore it. 

And when Valentine’s Day rolled around, he wasn’t even surprised by the number of girls showering him with gifts. Actually, he felt kind of bad for them, on account of Warren’s sheer obliviousness and marked inability to be intimate with anyone. He just played them, whether he meant to or not, because it came naturally to him, and he wasn’t the type to fight the flow of things, couldn’t be bothered, rather. Perhaps that’s why it came as even more of a shock to Quicksilver when Warren publicly approached him, of all people, with a gift. It was a cassette tape - Metallica’s  _ Kill ‘Em All _ . Not wrapped up or anything fancy, just casually handed off.

“Give this a listen. Guarantee it’s better than that Pink Floyd garbage. Oh, and uh...happy Valentine’s day,” he winked. 

In that short span of time, Warren probably hadn’t even realized that he just shattered the hearts of at least a dozen girls who had witnessed their exchange. Peter stood still, caught off guard for probably the first time in his life, looking dumbfounded down at the tape in his hand. Warren had already walked away by now, and as the silver-haired man registered all of the envious eyes on him, he promptly zipped off to the privacy of his dorm.

_ Shit, _ he thought.  _ I feel like an idiot. I didn’t get him anything and if I tried to think of something now, it would just seem like an after-thought.  _ He sat in his bed, trying to sort through his racing thoughts.  _ We aren’t a couple, we are fair-weather friends at best, fuck does it matter if I wasn’t thinking about him. I shouldn’t be, anyways...should I?  _

Eventually, he opted to just put aside some time to drop in on his friend, instead of trying to come up with some kind of cheesy gift. It had been awhile since they had properly hung out, after all. 

“Dude, you in there,” Peter called out as he knocked, feeling decidedly unsure, though he refused to figure out why.

The blonde answered the door, with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still visibly damp. He stood back and opened the door, inviting him in. Once the door was closed behind them, Peter watched in awe as Warren flapped his wings vigorously, shaking the water droplets from his feathers. His eyes wandered to a corner of his room where all of the tokens of love he received earlier that day had been unceremoniously dumped. 

“Damn, man. Playboy over here,” he laughed.

“Tell me about it. Think I’m set on chocolate for the rest of my life,” he said as he carelessly kicked a heart-shaped box of truffles out of his way. 

“So...are you glad you ended up staying,” he asked off-handedly. 

He walked over to the bed, where Peter was already sitting, and flopped back onto it, his brow briefly furrowed in thought.

“Well, I’m glad I got to know Ororo, ya know. Like really  _ know _ her. She’s a cool person. But the only thing that’s really worth staying for is you.”

“What?” 

Warren laughed, “what?”

“We don’t even hang out.”

“I guess I figured you only really tolerated me in the hospital because you had to. And now that you weren’t obliged to - well, I saw a lot less of you, Peter. I know I’m -  _ difficult.  _ But the times you sat with me outside, you know in the wide-open, free world - That’s when I knew, this guy, he was born to run, and he has every escape route available to him. But he’s sat here with my hopeless drunk ass. That shit means a lot to me, man.”

“Warren-” Peter didn’t fight to hide the conflicted look on his face, “I think you vastly overestimate me.”

“Oh? Then why are you here,” he asked.

They were silent, staring at each other for what felt like eternity.

“After that day...did you ever think about….”

“When you kissed me,” Warren finished his thought, “I might have.”

“I thought that I was actually a lot like you. Ever since the beginning.”

“And?”

“I think we’re more different than I anticipated. Somehow that made me nervous. Cause when I saw myself in you, I thought I understood you. So, I wasn’t afraid to do something crazy like that, like kiss you.”

“Pfftt! You think that’s crazy?” 

“It’s not something I’d usually do.”

“Then I’ll just shut up and be honored that I witnessed it,” Warren laughed charmingly. 

“Okay, then make my life a little easier and stay quiet for me just a little longer,” Peter replied coyly as he leaned in and kissed the winged man just like he had months ago. 

When he pulled away, Warren looked less shocked than the first time, but his face was just as flushed, despite himself. 

“What was that about,” he laughed.

“I had to think of some way to pay you back for the tape, didn’t I,” he joked. 

“It’s gonna take more than a simple kiss to match a Metallica tape, my friend,” Warren teased.

“ _ Friend? _ I thought friends didn’t do that type of thing.”

“Call it what you want,” Warren rolled his eyes as he pulled Peter on top of him, their lips forcefully crashing together.

Peter didn’t waste any time pulling the towel from Warren’s waist, exposing him completely, never once breaking their feverish kiss. At the same time, the blonde rushed to get Peter out of his clothes, too. First peeling off his jacket, and then unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down around his knees impatiently. Peter was lost in a haze of adrenaline. This was the first time he’d ever felt like everything around him was moving fast, like a blur, as opposed to the usual, boring slow-mo world he had always experienced. This felt exhilarating. He couldn’t take the time, even if he wanted to, to get a good look at the man who lay beneath him before he moved to plant small bites and kisses along the side of Warren’s neck, working his way down. The blonde’s wings unconsciously flapped down against the bed below as he arched his back and hips up, grinding against Peter in blind ecstasy. 

He couldn’t help but moan as the friction burned a hole in the pit of his stomach. Peter ran his hand along Warren’s inner thigh, taking pride in the way it made the angel’s breath hitch. He teased him for a moment, gripping Warren’s hips tightly as he went back to catch his lips once more. The kiss was only broken when the blonde threw his head back with a gasp as Peter gripped his cock and began stroking it languidly. 

Peter bit his lip as he took in Warren’s expression. His handsome face, distorted in overwhelming pleasure. Even as overwhelmed as he felt, the winged man managed to reposition himself, getting on top to straddle Peter’s hips. He moved his hips fluidly, their bare erections brushing against each other. Peter let out a soft groan, and Warren took this as permission to take it a step further. With the litheness of a cat, and eyes just as piercing, he slid backwards to sit between Peter’s legs, hot breath ghosting dangerously over his length. Warren licked the tip of his cock playfully, looking up into his partner’s eyes, almost daringly. As soon as he saw that fleeting flicker of yearning on Peter’s face, he continued, taking as much of Peter into his mouth as he could. 

Peter felt like he was fighting to keep afloat, drowning in the towering waves of bliss that were trapping him in the undertow. His breathing heavy and labored, the waves finally stopped coming and his vision focused for a moment. He looked down at the beautiful man kneeling between his legs, staring back at him sinfully. It barely registered what was about to occur, as he watched Warren shift positions, placing one knee on either side of his waist. 

When the blonde decided he had done a good enough job of slicking up Peter’s hard-on, he apprehensively went back to straddling the silver-haired man, hovering just over his stiff cock. Peter abruptly sat up, looking a little worried. 

“What are you-”

“I don’t exactly know. I’ve never done it like this before, either,” Warren laughed softly.

“We don’t have to-”

“I want to, Peter….Is it okay?”

Peter nodded his head softly, gripping Warren’s waist and pulling him close for a kiss.  _ Just shut up and be grateful that I’m witnessing this _ , Peter almost smiled to himself as he used the thought to shut down his own heightened sense of vulnerability. The passing of a rare, tender moment he just shared, and might never share again - with anyone. 

Warren slowly lowered himself down onto Peter’s waiting erection. The tip pushed at his entrance with resistance. He grunted in discomfort as he lowered himself further, a bit more forcefully this time. The whole time Peter didn’t move an inch, letting him take things at his own pace. After some considerable struggling, he was finally all the way in. Warren remained still, gathering himself as tears stung the corners of his eyes. It hurt, that was undeniable. But the pain kind of made him feel alive. A sharp breath hissed through his teeth as he slowly began moving his hips, trying to relax. Peter moaned, barely able to contain himself. He gently began to stroke the blonde’s cock in rhythm with his movements, hoping to offset the pain. The ripples of pleasure shot through Warren’s body and he started to slowly move up and down. 

He moaned as Peter increased his pace, jerking him off more energetically. Carefully, Peter began to thrust his hips, trying his best to make it feel good for Warren, too, trying to find a better angle. As the passion and heat coiled back like a spring inside of both of them, their breathing became more ragged, and their movements more vigorous. Peter angled his hips and thrust up into Warren forcefully.

“ _ Ah fuck! Right there,” _ Warren whined.

Gripping the blonde’s hips for more leverage, Peter pounded into Warren’s sweet spot relentlessly, indulging himself in the sweet moans and whimpers the angel was letting out. 

“ _ Peter - I’m close,”  _ he gasped.

“Me, too,” he panted.

Peter’s thrusts quickened as he reached the edge of climax. The dogged sound of their bodies colliding echoed in his ears. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Peter groaned, as his whole body shuddered, releasing his seed deep inside of Warren.

Nearly at the same time, Warren finished, too, his cum splattering his own stomach and dripping down onto Peter. He lazily wiped them both off with a stray shirt that was laying on his floor, carelessly tossing it aside. The two collapsed back onto the bed, too lost in euphoria and too exhausted to worry about properly cleaning up. Sweaty, and still short of breath, they cuddled up and before either of them knew it, they were both fast asleep. 


End file.
